


Worth

by httpstiles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demonic Possession, Demons, Hurt Stiles, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, demon scott, demon scott mccall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:38:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpstiles/pseuds/httpstiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He steps in and pulls Stiles into view. His claws are piercing the skin of Stiles’ neck and there’s blood running down it. His arms are strapped to his side, and wrists behind his back, all bound with layers of duck tape.</p><p>“Scott! What the hell are you doing?!”</p><p>“It’s not Scott.” Stiles’ voice sounds scared and broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth

            The first time Scott noticed the smell, he was watching TV. It smelled like the gas on the stove had been left on, so he went to check, just in case… Of course, though, he found nothing out of the ordinary. Turning back to the TV, a cold chill ran up his spine. Deciding that he no longer wanted to be home alone, he called Stiles to come over; they had already planned on meeting up to head over to Derek’s, so two hours earlier wouldn’t hurt anyone.

            Or maybe it would.

            The second time Scott smelled it was just after Stiles came over. Pausing the game, Scott sniffed at the air, ignoring Stiles’ shouts of protest.

            “Dude, what are you doing?” Stiles threw a pillow at Scott, but he didn’t stop staring out his bedroom door.

            “Do you smell that?” he asked.

            “Um…,” Stiles smelled at the air. “Did you leave the stove on?”

            “No…,” Slowly, Scott stood and walked into the hall, peering around for anything weird.

            “Well, what is it?”

            “I don’t—,” Scott’s voice was cut off as his back smacked the ground and his body was dragged back toward another room. Stiles jumped up and ran for the door, but it slammed shut. Scott’s screams were loud. The mirror in Scott’s en suite bathroom shattered and then pictures frames, one after another, that stood around Scott’s room. Stiles tugged on the door handle again and it still didn’t open.

            “SCOTT!” he shouted. “SCOTT!” To say that Stiles was scared was an understatement. His heart was beating out of his chest and his thoughts were running through hid head so fast he wasn’t even sure if he was thinking. Was it pure instinct or adrenaline? “SCO—,” something whacked him in the chest, sending him flying and knocking the wind out of him. He could have sworn he’d hit the floor, but opening his eyes, he found that he was against the wall, feet above the ground. _Fuckfuckfu_ —

            The door handle turned and Scott stepped in, but his eyes were a pure black, even the part that was supposed to be white.

            “Scott?” Stiles tried to pull off the wall, but the force holding him down only caused strain on his breathing; he gave up, letting his body be pinned.

            “Scott is temporarily out of order.” There was a nefarious grin to accompany the words. Shifting through the room, whatever was possessing Scott started looking through drawers. There was a small smile as he pulled a roll of duck tape out of a desk drawer. “Hmm…,” the thing hummed. “Your friend is shouting and crying, begging me to stop.”

            “Stop what?” Stiles questioned weakly.

            “Oh,” the thing clicked Scott’s tongue and paced the room slowly, playing with the end of the duck tape. “See, your boy Scotty here can read all my thoughts while we share this brain,” it tapped on Scott’s head. “It’s just like I can read though all his thoughts. Like, I already know that you’re his best friend, almost 8 years now. And I also know about werewolves and how it would devastate him if anything ever happened to you. Let’s hope the rest can comply with my demands, for your sake.”

 

            “Something’s not right,” Derek mumbled as he heard Scott and Stiles moving up the elevator shaft.

            “What’s that noise?” Isaac asked.

            “Stiles’ heartbeat.” Derek immediately got up from his desk.

            “That doesn’t sound right, though.”

            “It’s not; he’s scared or hurt.” The elevator comes to a stop and the door to the loft slams open seconds later.

            “Maybe both,” the thing controlling Scott grins. He steps in and pulls Stiles into view. His claws are piercing the skin of Stiles’ neck and there’s blood running down it. His arms are strapped to his side, and wrists behind his back, all bound with layers of duck tape.

            “Scott! What the hell are you doing?!”

            “It’s not Scott.” Stiles’ voice sounds scared and broken. Isaac shuffles beside Derek, uncomfortable with the pain that his pack mate is emitting.

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” Derek growls and his claws come out.

            “I’d put those away if I were you.” Scott’s claws dig more into Stiles’ neck he grunts in pain, tears welling in his eyes.

            “Fine!” Derek shouts in defeat. “Just fucking stop that.” He retracts his claws and Scott smiles.

            “Better,” he smiles. Stiles gasps as Scott lets his neck go and tosses him to the ground. Isaac steps forward and Scott’s hand shoots up, throwing Isaac across the room.

            “What do you want?”

            “Who says I want anything?” Derek signs and grits his teeth.

            “What do you need?”

            “Now you’re on the right page. I’m in town for three virgins. I’ve already gotten one and I just need two more; this one won’t work.” He smirks down at Stiles. “The issue, though, is that I need them soon, and even in this beta form, I can’t smell them out, but you can. You also don’t want Stiles dead.” The thing stomps Scott’s foot onto Stiles’ stomach. Bring me two virgins by midnight and we won’t be having any issues. Leave now and take your pup.”

 

            “They’re not going to bring you any virgins,” Stiles states once they’re gone.

            “I’m aware of that chance, but if they don’t then I just kill you. So you better hope that they do.” The thing picks up Stiles and tosses him onto the couch. It smells a lot like Peter, which shouldn’t be as comfortable as it is and— wait, Peter. Stiles looks around in a rush to see if he was possibly lurking in the shadows. Sure enough, there he was, crouched at the top of the spiral stair case. Locking eyes with Stiles, his eyes flashed blue and he made a quick motion telling him _look the fuck away, do you want me caught?_ Stiles did look away because he wasn’t that stupid. Peter needed to give him more credit. But what Peter also needed was a distraction. Stiles cleared his throat to get Sco— the things attention.

            “What?” the thing asked with a roll of Scott’s regular eyes.

            “Um… what are you exactly?”

            “A demon.” Stiles nodded as if that made more sense now. “And don’t try anything funny, I can take a lot more pain than you.”

            “So you _could_ be hurt though? Like knocked out? Do you bruise?” The demon makes a confused face and Stiles makes and odd expression in return. “What?” he asks innocently. “It’s not every day I can ask the thing questions instead of studying it.” There was an annoyed sigh in response.

            “Yes, we can. If you really must know, but it takes a pretty hard and direct blow.” The demon smiles and punches Stiles in the face.

            “What the hell was that for?!” Stiles shouts.

            “An example. A hit harder than that would knock me out.” He punches Stiles a second time and he falls to his side and rolls of the couch. He spits up blood and his head spins.

            “And that one?” he asks with a face full of rug.

            “For yelling at me. I don’t like to be yelled at, Stiles.”

            “And I don’t like when people or creatures hurt my pack mates,” Peter speaks from behind. The demon is barely turned around when Peter’s fist connects with Scott’s face. Blood sprays from his mouth and he passes out cold.

            “Stiles, I need you to hold on another minute. There’s only so much time before he wakes up and I need to get him trapped.” He runs up the stairs and runs back down in less than a minute with a can of spray paint.

            “You know how to trap a demon?” Stiles asks lazily.

            “I’ve had a few encounters.” Peter tosses the can and drags Scott’s body to the middle of it.

            “Derek,” Stiles turns his head and sees Peter on the phone walking toward him. “Yeah, he’s out cold and I drew the seal.” He shoves the phone between his ear and shoulder, reaching down to cut the duck tape off Stiles. “He’s fine, but he’s a little beaten.” There’s talking that Stiles can’t hear on the other end and Peter is pulling him up and carrying him like a bride. “Yeah I’ll put him in your bed, but I need someone that can read Latin.” … “The words need to be pronounced right, though.”

            “Lydia,” Stiles murmurs.

            “Perfect. Derek, call Lydia, she can read it. We need her.” Stiles passes out sometime between the lifting and Derek’s bed.

 

            When Stiles wakes up, he can hear gentle talking from downstairs. There are footsteps from outside the door and his heartbeat picks up.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Derek closes the door behind him and steps in.  
“Scott— is he?”

            “He’s back. The demon is gone.” Stiles sighs and his heartbeat slows down. “But Stiles, Scott was telling us everything that happened and there’s a bank part for about an hour our time. It was just second to him so he has no idea what happened.” Stiles’ heartbeat skyrockets again and he’s pulling his knees to his chest.

            “Fuck,” he mutters. “No,” his breathing increases rapidly and, “No, not here—,”

            “Stiles? Stiles, what’s wrong?”

            “I— I think I’m having a panic attack.” He clumsily shoves the covers off of him and there’s pain shooting from every angle and he _can’t breathe._ He’s trying to untangle the damn blankets when Derek’s arm wraps around his body and his chest is pressed against his and his heartbeat is against his rapid one. Slowly, his heart beats at a normal pace again.

            “How did you know to do that?”

            “I got them after the fire. My sister did that.” Stiles nods and wipes his teary eyes. “Stiles, what happened?” Stiles takes the shoulder of Derek’s shirt in his hand.

            “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I just— I can’t let go.”

            “It’s okay, I get it. The touch and warmth is comforting.” Stiles nods sheepishly into his shoulder.

            “The uh— the demon, he… God, I can’t say it.”

            “Did he beat you?”

            “Fuck no,” Stiles replies all too fast. “I wish.” There’s a long pause and Derek takes a deep breath.

            “Oh, that’s what he meant when he said he already had one of the three virgins, isn’t it?” Stiles nods and a broken sob escapes his lips.

            “It’s not even the fact that it happened though. It’s what it fucking whispered in my ear every fucking second and it fucking hurt.” Stiles doesn’t realize he’s shaking until his hands loosen up on Derek’s shirt and he sees it. Peter walks in after a few minutes of silence between the two. He has a heating pad for Stiles to lay his back on and Stiles does just that, and he thanks him. He thanks him for more than that, though.

            Peter smiles back a small smile and Stiles wonders what Peter was like when he was Derek’s age; probably mischievous, but caring.

            Stiles and Derek agree not to say anything about what happened and Stiles will just never tell. It’s not Derek’s secret to tell, and Stiles knows that that will keep it only between them.

 

            Stiles wakes in the middle of the night to a nightmare and he sees Derek, and even Isaac. Derek’s on the other side of the bed and Isaac curled at the bottom, but legs sticking up the middle. He wasn’t screaming so that’s a plus; he didn’t want to wake anyone up. In fact, Stiles finds it easy to lie down, until the words are whispered in his ear.

_“            You don’t really mean anything to him.” “He’d save Allison over you in a heartbeat.” “He doesn’t care that I do this, he didn’t ask me to stop, just asked me to block it out.” “I can feel you pack bond. There are two tethers and his is a lot thinner. It’s ripping.” “He’s dreamt about accidentally killing you, but he’s never waken up with a drop of sweat.” “He believed you when you told him you feel like you killed your mother. He secretly thinks it too.” “Scott and I have something in common, a part of us wants to rip you apart.”_

            It really doesn’t seem all that bad, but it was all that and more, and it’s all replaying.

            Stiles does scream this time. And when Derek and Isaac wake up, and Peter comes running in, it’s already too late. He’s begging one of them to kill him, put him out of his misery. Derek holds him tight and Isaac and Peter don’t know what to do. Isaac is saying encouraging words and Peter is holding his hands, but nothing seems to work. Derek has never cried in front of anyone before, but he might when Stiles yells that he feels like he’s nothing to anyone anymore; he’d be better off dead.

            “You’re everything,” Derek whispers, taking hold of his face. “You are everything to this pack and I.” His eyes are wide, he’s actually fucking crying and Stiles is a sobbing mess when he kisses him. Stiles stops his movements and shouting after Derek pulls away. “You don’t need to be better because you’re already the best. You are worth everything.”


End file.
